The Lady Walks

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Pencil entry, dated 26/3/2009, there is a deep red smear in one corner
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Through the darkened streets She walked, crunching over the concrete gravel and spent casings. Standing tall and upright, but I could see Her shoulders were low, as if some weight were on Her, something, I couldn’t see what. But She walked on, and I followed. Knew I was there, I’m sure, I had made no secret of it, but, when She needs to stroll to think, I’m happier if I know there are extra friendly eyes Watchin. She don’t need much in tha way of protectin, there’s not much more I can do, that an Ancient Fanger, as She is, couldn’t handle. Still, makes me feel better knowin She aint wanderin all alone, and I think She finds it warmin that I tag along sometimes, either in arms reach, or like now, from across tha street.

I sing a little song to myself as we walk, Her where She would go, me, watching her “6”. It’s a song from home, called “Thorns”. One verse catches me, especially as She walks, and I think I understand what is happening.

No point complaining, I've been here before,
The same old same old you know the score,
Faces unfeeling, look down on me,
Eyes cut from stone shine with no sympathy,
This silent of silence, this river of pain,
And here I am walking down her streets again,
On thorns...

She walks through the city, not a straight line “walk with a mission”, just, walking. From tha Library I follow her to tha Garage, tha Ryders took off, just roared into tha night, and no one’s heard much from them since, there are still a couple of folks about, but they don’t wear the Colours, so I figure they’re strays. They don’t even look up from their scavengin as Her Ladyship passes, and pauses to look over the near empty stronghold. Its not till She is passed that they look up, and look to one another and nod at Her back. One stands, and they make to move on what looks to be an easy mark, a Lady, in fine clothes, walking in the dark, alone. Except, She aint. I saw them through the window, and as they step up ta make a move towards Her, I pad to tha open Garage doorway. Lookin in from my crouch, tall even with my paws close to the ground, I give a snarl to let them know She is not prey for them, they go silent, looked to the floor, and I move off.

The Pit, that fucking place. Power and terror, fear and rage. I’ll be glad to see the back of that place, some of my Timor dreams are matched by the ones I have from that place. She walks up the long ramp and pauses, staring inwards and shakes her head, not a negative, but disappointed, and walks back down, and away. I Watch from the back of tha Shelter, ready as ever to go in for Her, as I have in tha past, when She was confronted by tha Shadows, seeking reparation for Nareth’s being ett. Not this time though, tha Pit was as silent as tha Graveyard, which was Her next destination. We walked, Her down the middle of the street, me, dartin from cover to cover, past the Shelter, past the hospital, to tha Church of tha Righteous, and tha Graveyard.

Still, silent. She moves into tha Church, and down tha aisles. I could hear her heels on tha boards, and tha echo was telling. Tha graves were as still and silent as ever, tha muck and mist givin no sign of bein disturbed for some time, no couples scrumpin, no Fangers, fangin, nothing. Dead. Ironic, that. I hang back as I hear Her return, lettin Her walk as She will. South again. Past Haven, past tha Diner, to tha Park.

Tha Park where we did a great Work. Where the willing bled and a great betrayal was struck. She stands by tha Pool, now clotted and leaf-blown, tha Alliance of Her kin seem to have never givin it care and neglect shows, its healing power is diminished, and it smells. Her Ladyship stopped and sighed. I saw her look up to the trees that grew right around it, trees planted from seeds of Her garden, Goddess knows how old they would have been. Fruit that is blood-rich, and good ta eat fer Fanger and Fleshie alike. Plums that taste kind of like salty melon. Deep red and hardy enough to even grow in Toxia. Untasted, it seems, because tha branches are full of fruit, maybe tha season change did them good. It was a hard winter. She sighs again, and walks back towards tha Library.

I pause, from across the street, and as She leaves the park, I enter it, and go to the trees. I stare at the fruit, and at the pool, and back over the city. Was it all wasted? Were all the efforts fer nothing? We’ve lost so much, so many of our people have already fled. Tha comin of Cthulhu and Dagon was tha turning point, I think. Even tha rats are hard to come by. At least my Kin in tha Pack are thrivin, but, fer how long?

I looked to the trees, and made up my mind. I picked half of tha fruit, every second one, and put them in my pouch, dozens of blood-plums, lucky my pouch is a lot bigger on tha inside than it is on tha outside, or at least, where it goes is. I harvested tha fruits, because, if this place falls, or if we go, this at least won’t be wasted. I headed back to tha Library, and stroked tha walls, letting tha Library Spirit know that I was home, fer now.

A song with two voices

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a CD lyric sheet, rescued from the dumpster, cleaned and pasted into the journal
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Will I fall again into dismay?
Will I be ashamed of crying?
And I know it's never been the way that I described
But I am afraid of trying
She's the one who keeps me all excited
She keeps me begging for more
She's the one who deems me uninvited
Now it's over

Never leave me, and don't deceive me
I'll keep on crawling my friend
Never tease me and don't leave me here
It's all the same in the end

Now I find that I am weaker fair
That I am ashamed of lying
And I know things never feel the way that's right inside
And I am afraid of dying
'Cause you're the one who keeps me all excited
You keep me begging for more
You're the one who keeps me uninvited
Now it's over
Never leave me, and don't deceive me
I'll keep on crawling my friend....

It's only a symbol

You've got me falling away
And I am afraid
Take back what I said

Never leave me, and don't deceive me
I'll keep on crawling my friend
Never tease me and don't leave me here
It's all the same in the end [x2]

It's all the same in the end
It's all the same in the end
It's all the same in the end
It's only a symbol

-Seether: Never Leave

When the mighty treat with the magnificent

"I have a task for you, My Coyote" Her Ladyship came to me as i was sittin in tha Library, by tha fire. All she ever need do was ask. "Yes, Yer Ladyship, what do ya need?" She smiled, a flash of fang and a twinkle of an eye. "There is a document, a rather special document, that is in danger, and i wish for you to secure it for the Institute, GrrBrool." I nodded, awaiting further instruction. "When the British Empire encountered these people, it was at the height of its power. It was the mightiest force the world had known and one group of savages, on the far side of the planet, put up such a tenacious struggle, a treaty had to be struck. A copy of that treaty, is at risk of being lost."

She meant tha Maori, tha indig's of New Zealand. With wooden clubs and stone axes, they fought tha Red Coats and tha Royal Navy to a standstill, fought em so hard it was easier fer tha Poms ta shake their hand than try ta beat em down, like they had done ta every other culture they had ever ran inta, or since. They got a platoon of tribal leaders ta all agree ta terms, and they all signed. The signed with a representative, of tha Crown, ta share, on terms, tha land that tha Poms woulda just taken form anybody else.

Seems tha powers that be in Kiwi-land felt it was time ta do away with tha past, and purge some inconvenient records, like treaties they have had ta deal with fer a couple of hundred years. SO i packed some essentials, left some stuff behind, and took one of tha clandestine boats that Duckie gets in, off Tox, and to tha mainland. From there it was stowage-class, and undercover, pressurized cargo flights across tha Pacific, and eventually, ta Kiwi-land. Not comfortable way ta travel, but, beats bein snagged by tha government, any government, and handed back to tha 7RAR-L, in a cage or in a bucket.


I got into tha city, Wellington, little port town, hardly any toxic sludge or firefights in tha street, civil unrest though, looks like tha Maori population kinda objects to somethin tha Anglo run leadership is doin. Figures. Fleshies do this kinda thing all tha time, one tribe against another, even when tha original trouble was gone generations ago. Tha poor stay poor and tha rich get richer, usually its tha locals, tha ones who's land got taken over, that are still on tha bottom, and still pissed off about it. That and tha way that tha different tribes seem ta always settle out. This time, same as tha last time, tha Anglo's got tha tech, and tha Maori got tha balls. Good luck to them, again.


Not my problem, though, i was after a document, simple snatch and recovery. I found tha museum, it woulda been pretty impressive a couple of decades ago, but now it was old and shabby, not maintained well. Security on tha doors, cameras, some of tha glass frontage was walled up with steel plate to cover damage. I scoped it out for a while, tryin ta avoid bein picked off by either tha gangs or tha government dragoons, and planned my entry. I was gunna hit tha archives, tha briefin Her Ladyship had given me stated that it was under lock and key in tha basement, in a room i had tha number fer. So, insertion. I found a side that was sheltered, and in a service access only area, Changed inta my War-Form , and bounded up tha slopin wall, to tha roof. From there, i popped a lock, and slipped in, paddin my way through tha inners of tha place, till i made it to tha basement.

Didn't figure on guards, but. I mean, guards? in a Museum? who steals from a museum? Oh, well, apart from me . . . Just Fleshies, one skinny old dude, tha other some kinda fat young guy. I woulda thought they'd have some big hulkin Maori fellas or sheilas guardin it, with those awesome face-tats, but, nope, just those two. I came t them from tha side, after i scoped them out, and realised they weren't goin anywhere fast. One was leanin on a counter, tha fat one, sittin at a desk. Both smelt of coffee and bad food. Neither smelt of fear, they didn't know i was there, or didn't care. I'm guessin tha former. Didn't stop ta ask. I bounded in, and kicked tha old fella in tha back of tha knee. It kinda did that snap-crackle-pop thing old bones do, he made a noise, and then fell over, and passed out pretty fast, then his leg hit tha ground. Feel a bit bad about that, Fleshies don't heal too good, worse when they are old. Tha fat kid was just starin at me, and reachin fer tha tazer on his hip when i came over tha desk, all fur and fang, and flat-palmed him on tha forehead, off his chair, and popped him one to tha side of tha head. Out like a light too.

I searched em both, and checked their vitals, i even gave tha old fella a bit of Coyote's Light, and fixed up tha bones in his leg. Keys were tha prize though and i got them right smart, and off to tha store rooms. Fuck me, there were a lot of things in there, good thing i had a serial number, or i would never have found tha damn thing. There is was thought, Her Ladyship's intel was spot on. I popped the case, and took out tha document. It was in a plastic sheet, so i rolled it up, careful like, and slipped it inta tha hard plastic map-tube i'd brought, and piss-bolted outta there. Just in time too, on my way off tha roof, i saw a van, unmarked, but with spook-lookin goons roll up, and pop tha back doors of the place, looks like i got there just in time, or maybe that had made me, either way, i didn't stick around ta find out.

Back home tha same kinda way, in tha belly of big planes, and on tha smuggler-ships, but i made it, not a worry, and slipped back inta tha Library. I read tha treaty, or tried, its in wavy writin, and not proper English, old-talk, i guess, but its powerful stuff. When tha Might of the British Empire nodded its head to tha Magnificence of tha Warrior Nation of tha Maori. Now, its safe in Her Ladyships keepin, in tha Library, tha Institute. Where Sacred learnins aint burnt cause they aint popular no more.

Well done them. We're still gunna take em in tha rugby, but. This year . . .